


Making Out

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [12]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Bad Puns, Cell Phones, F/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Puns & Word Play, Strip Tease, Stripping, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:31:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3462752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In July 2011, Immediately following the Avengers shoot (moved from April-August to January-June).Tom Hiddleston and his costar, Abigail Morgan are drawn into a very private and torrid affair. </p><p>Tom can't find his watch and enlists his lover to help him find it. Puns and smut ensue.</p><p>
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</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Out

“Abby?” I heard Tom call through his flat. I was set in a cocoon of pillows and blankets on his sofa, reading one of his stuffy, upper crust, intellectual books. Reading was definitely the incorrect verb to describe my activity, attempting… trying… okay, flipping pages, really, looking for pictures and a word I recognized or could pronounce. I didn’t have the patience for most of his smart books. He called again, “Have you seen my watch, Abby?”

I wasn’t about to get up out of my nest to help him find the blasted thing. For all intents and purposes I was pouting in his living room, seeking his focus again. He had decided to get up and go for a run, and I didn’t want him to leave. Sundays were our days and I didn’t appreciate his wasting an hour of it on endurance running. I could test his endurance in other ways that would be mutually enjoyable. Since I didn’t particularly care for running, I’d thrown on one of his t-shirts to sulk until he returned.

Sighing, I screamed, “The sexy black fuck me watch?”

Don’t make me describe the many ways that hunk of plastic or metal or whatever was irresistible. The stark black band in contrast to Tom’s pale British skin was absolutely lickable, the large digital readout, the mere presence of it. That sportwatch demanded attention and I was paying close attention. Tom usually reaped the benefits of my admiration of that piece of technology because he wore it so well.

“Yeah, my runner’s watch, have you seen it?” still speaking loud from his bedroom. I could hear him shuffling and scuffling around, presumably looking for the wayward time-keeper.

“Haven’t seen it… recently.” The last time I’d seen it, I was in a rush to get him out of it and the rest of his clothing.

He stuck his head out of the gap in the doorway, his voice no longer muffled by the walls separating us. “Would you mind helping me search for my missing watch? Please.”

“Sorry. Can’t seem to find the time.”

I could hear the chuckle in his voice a few clicks later. “Abby, please. The quicker I find it, the quicker I’m out the door, and the quicker I’m back to focusing on you.” Smooth one, Hiddleston, appealing to the sex kitten within me.

I fancied that thought process, it had merit, no doubt of it. However, I had a better idea. “Or you could abandon the whole running thing and focus on me instead. Instant gratification, no delay.”

“Don’t waste my time,” I heard him call again from inside his bedroom, his patience running thin.

As I extricated myself from the nest of bedding on the sofa, I folded the corner of the page down as a place holder in the book I was looking through. I knew how much Tom hated when I did that, but I couldn’t find a bookmark from my perch. I was meant to be looking for the time-keeper anyways, not a bookmark. Depositing the book on the coffee table, I began my search in the room I was in. Speaking loud enough so he could hear me, I said conversationally, “Did you know that when a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds?”

He barked out a laugh at my poor excuse for humor. I was only pretending to look, the thought of searching just as unfavorable as having him leave. A fleeting thought crossed my mind that if I actually found the contraption, I could keep it from him so he couldn’t go.  “Time and time again, you go for the tongue in cheek.”

“Time well spent,” I called out to him. Feeling every bit the saucy minx he accused me of being most days, I mumbled, “I’d prefer your tongue in my cheek.”

I jumped in surprise as he said from directly behind me, “Only a matter of time, darling.”

I whipped around to look at him, my hand over my wildly beating heart. I didn’t hear his approach, figuring he was still in the bedroom. I swatted at his chest, working out the shock. “Don’t do that.”

He caught my flying wrists easily, his smile firmly in place. He held my hands to his chest and gazed at me intently. “Abby, are you really looking or are you just passing the time?”

Guiltily I avoided his stare, choosing to turn my attention to my hands deliciously splayed over his pectoral muscles. There’s a reason I didn’t want him to leave the sanctuary of his flat, and his body beneath my palms was an excellent one. Sliding my hands along the soft, well-used white t-shirt, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him flush against me, my convincing argument for him to stay. I whispered into the cotton, “Killing time.”

Embracing me closely, he murmured into my hair, “I thought so.” He knew that I didn’t want him to leave either. This was comfortable, and exactly what I looked forward to on our days. As we settled into the embrace, whiling away the clock, Tom’s iPhone sounded from his kitchen table. “One minute.”

Releasing him from my clutch, I said flippantly, “How would you know? You’ve misplaced your watch.”

I caught his giggle, a slight shake of his head as he crossed the room and exited. I flopped back down on the sofa amongst my poofs of bedclothes, and waited for his return. I completely lost interest in the book, I didn’t want to watch the telly, I only desired Tom and all that he provided.

He made his way back into the living room with his mobile glued to his ear, vocalizing a few random yeahs and uh-huhs. He sat next to me and threw his arm across my shoulders, as he made himself comfortable. He spoke curtly into the phone, “I’ve got time to spare. Go on.” I looked up at him suspiciously and he winked at me, and shook his head before I could renew my pout. He put his pointer finger vertically over his lips and tapped it lightly twice in the universal signal to stay quiet. Quiet I would be, but I wasn’t going to make the task any easier for him.

Crawling into his lap, I straddled his widespread legs, hoping to derail his plans for running after his phone call. He shook his head to chastise and discourage me. I placed my index finger over his lips, mimicking what he’d just done to keep him silent. With a playful smile pulling up the corners of my mouth, I shrugged innocently. He narrowed his eyes and mouthed, “Abby, don’t.” He followed up quickly with another distracted audible, “Yeah, yeah,” into the receiver.

Lowering my mouth to his unoccupied ear, I sucked the soft lobe between my lips, grazing lightly with my teeth. Tom’s breath hitched in his throat at the shock of my action. His arm wrapped my waist and pulled me closer into his lap. I nipped, nibbled and kissed a trail from his ear down the column of his neck. I whispered, “I want you inside me.”

The vibration of his vocal chords as he spoke into the phone only spurred me on. “I can m-m-meet you for about an-an-an… hour tomorrow b-b-before rehearsal.”

I smiled into his skin, realizing from his speech pattern that my distraction was working. I slid my hand down the center of his chest but he impeded my progress with a death grip around my wrist. In response, I bit him harder than I intended and his grip loosened. He moaned involuntarily, morphing it into another uh huh for the person on the phone. I continued my path to grasp his stiffening flesh beneath his ugly running pants. Brushing my hand along his length, his head lulled back into the back of the sofa cushion, exposing more of his neck for me to devour in kisses. I whispered into the shell of his ear, “I need you to fuck me.”

I needed to get him off that phone and soon. My game had not only ignited his desire, but my own. The ache of arousal sat heavy at my center, all my determination to end his phone call fueled from between my legs. I led his free hand to cup my breast and squeeze. He opened his lustful deep blue eyes, feeling my flesh respond under his fingertips. Engrossed more in my seduction than his phone call, he mumbled, his voice dropped a few octaves, “Sure, sure… time management… Go on.”

That certainly was not what I wanted to hear him tell the male voice on the other end of the line. I clambered off his lap backwards, and pulled his shirt off over my head. I always wore his clothing on a Sunday, if I ever got dressed, which wasn’t very often. I kicked out of my knickers and reclaimed my place upon his lap. He leveled his gaze on my naked breast, his hand like a magnet to the fleshy globe. He kneaded the skin and tweaked my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Ignoring his warning look, I slid my hand in between my legs to relieve some of the pressure that had built up there in my seduction. His jaw dropped as I dipped a finger into my heat. I bit my lip as my fingertip swiped over at my clit, and plunged into my wetness again. He exclaimed quietly for me and his contact on the phone, “No! Don’t do that!”

He pulled my hand from me and replaced it with his own. He thrust two fingers up into me roughly. I bit back a squeak, my head thrown back with the pleasure of it. My hips moved of their own accord, seeking friction and release. Tom thumbed my clit as I rode his hand. Vaguely aware of his voice, he said, “L-luuuuuke, times up, b-b-buddy. I’ve a pressing…” He pushed fingers up into me a little harder. “…matter to deal w-w-with just now.”

Placing one hand on his chest for something solid to hang onto and the other holding his to my center, I closed my eyes, let my head fall forwards into his neck and rode his hand to orgasm. Ecstasy washed over me suddenly and to keep from making a noise, I bit into his shoulder. He grunted with the pain, and again turned it into a sound of approval for his publicist. My channel rippled violently around his fingers.

As I came back to Earth, my entire body singing with release, Tom abruptly rung off his call. He discarded the iPhone onto the coffee table with a clatter and threw me bodily into the pillows I’d brought through for his forgotten run. One leg landed up over the back of the sofa, and the other hung off to the floor.

Before I could complain about the length of his phone call with an impatient exclamation, “It’s about time,” he buried his face between my legs. I screamed out his name in surprise and utter pleasure as his tongue sunk into my slit. My body bowed towards him with the onslaught of stimulation to my femininity. Trapping my hips with his hands, his talented tongue fucked me. I buried my fingers into his red curls that he was growing for his next role. He flicked his oral muscle over the sensitive bud of nerves at the top of my sex before suctioning it into his mouth. He nibbled and nipped me into another intense orgasm. I nearly screamed myself sore as tremors ripped through me.

He stood up from the sofa to pull his clothes off in a rush, watching the effects of his mouth on my body. I twitched and shook in the aftershocks of the climax, my breath nearly wheezing out of my lungs. “Just in the nick of time, darling. I’m about to explode.” I opened my eyes to see him pumping his hand over his length.

Tom kneeled between my spread knees, caressing my legs bringing me back down so I could catch my breath. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he blanketed my body with his. He captured my lips in a quick kiss as I smiled, pulling him into me. “It was the best of times.”

“Darling, it’s not over yet,” he said into my mouth. He pushed his cock into my body, moaning with the sensation of it.

“You’re no minuteman, Hiddleston… never have been.”

He smiled down at me as his hips retreated and thrust back in. “Let the good times roll.” He accentuated the last word with a corresponding roll of his pelvis into me.

My breasts pushed up into his chest as my oversensitive clit felt the jolt of pleasure. “Oh,” I breathed out, my eyes closing with the threat of yet another tumble through ecstasy swept over me.

When I opened my eyes again, Tom was staring at me with fascination, the rhythm of his undulation below increasing. “Is the third time a charm, Abby?”

“It might be. Fuck me harder to find out.”

He growled and did as I demanded, my middle meeting him thrust for pare. He snuck his hands under my arse, changing the angle of my hips. My sweet bundle of nerves treated to increased pressure of his pelvic bone. It didn’t take long before my pleasure crisis tore through me quickly from my overly sensitized vaginal walls. I rippled around him tightly triggering his finale and he moaned as he emptied into me.

I was exhausted, my body abused to its extent, splendidly so. Every inch of me trembled with endorphins and relaxation. When Tom’s cock stopped twitching within me, he propped himself up on his elbows to look at me. “How’re you feeling, darling?”

“Boneless,” I giggled, my voice raw from the vigorous activity.

“Time flies when you’re having fun, Abby.”

I tried to roll my eyes as he laughed at his own joke, his tongue peeking out between his straight teeth. “We still haven’t found your watch.”


End file.
